Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens Part 25

"You have bled him, of course."

The physician's answers to enquiries were generally as short as the rules of politeness permitted; occasionally, some of his questioners were disposed to think, even shorter; but there were remarks that always made him fluent of speech, though the fluency was not always agreeable to his audience.

"Bleed him, sir," he cried, "why don't you say at once stab him, poison him? No, sir, I have not bled him, and do not intend to."

"I thought that it was usual in such cases," said the merchant timidly.

"Very likely you did," answered Demoleon, "and there are persons, I do not doubt, who would have done it, persons, too, who ought to know better." This was levelled at a rival pract.i.tioner in the town for whom he entertained a most thorough contempt. "Do you know, sir," he went on, "where men learnt the practice of bleeding?"

"No, I do not," said Demochares.

"It was from the hippopotamus. That animal has been observed to bleed himself. Doubtless the operation does him good. But it does not follow that what is good for an animal as big as a cottage is good also for a man. Doubtless there _are_ men for whom it is good. When I have to deal with a mountain of a man, one of your city dignitaries bloated by rich feeding, by chines of beef and pork and flagons of rich wine, I don't hesitate to bleed him. His thick skin, his rolls of fat flesh, seem to require it. In fact he is a human hippopotamus. But to bleed a spare young fellow, who has been going through months of labor and hard living would be to kill him. I wonder that you can suggest such a thing."

"I am sure I am very sorry," said the merchant humbly.

"Happily no harm is done," replied the physician, cooling down a little.

"And, after all, this is not your business, and you may be excused for your ignorance, but there are others," he went off muttering in a low voice, "who ought to know better, and ought to be punished for such folly. It is sheer murder."

I do not intend to describe the course of the long illness of which this was the beginning. There were times when even the hopefulness of the physician--and his hopefulness was one of his strongest and most helpful qualities--failed him. Relapse after relapse, coming with disheartening frequency, just when he had seemed to have gathered a little strength, brought him close to the gates of death.

"I have done all that I can," said Demoleon one evening to Epicharis the nurse. "If any one is to save him, it must be you. If you want me, send for me, of course. Otherwise I shall not come. It breaks my heart to see this fine young fellow dying, when there are hundreds of worthless brutes whom the earth would be better without."

Epicharis never lost heart; for a nurse to lose heart is more fatal than the physician's despair. For nearly a week she scarcely slept. Not a single opportunity of administering some strengthening food did she lose--for now the fever had pa.s.sed, and the danger lay in the excessive exhaustion. At last her patience was rewarded. The sick man turned the corner, and Demoleon, summoned at last, to alleviate, he feared, the last agony, found, to his inexpressible delight, that the cure was really begun.

"You are the physician," he cried, as he seized the nurse's hand and kissed it; "I am only a fool."

Winter had pa.s.sed into spring, and spring into summer, before Callias could be p.r.o.nounced out of danger. Even then his recovery was slow. Some months were spent in a mountain village where the bracing air worked wonders in giving him back his strength. As the cold weather came on he returned to his comfortable home in Trapezus. Though scarcely an invalid, he was still a little short of perfect recovery. Besides it was not the time for travelling. Anyhow it was the spring of the following year, and now more than twelve months from the time of his first illness, when he was p.r.o.nounced fit to travel. Even then it was only something like flat rebellion on the part of his patient that induced Demoleon to give way. The young man was wearying for home and friends.

He had heard nothing of them for several months, for communication was always stopped during the winter between Athens and the ports of the Euxine, while the eastward bound ships that always started after the dangerous season of the equinox had pa.s.sed, had not yet arrived.

FOOTNOTES:

[78] Artaxerxes Longima.n.u.s, so called from the circ.u.mstance of his right hand being longer than his left. He reigned from 465 to 425.

[79] About 5,200, ($25,000), if gold is to be reckoned at thirteen times the value of silver. This is Herodotus' calculation, and it probably held good in Greece for a century or more from his time, until, in fact, the enormous influx of gold from the Asiatic conquests of Alexander altered the proportion.

CHAPTER XXVII.

BACK TO ATHENS.

Callias started about the middle of April, according to our reckoning.

His journey to the Bosphorus was much r.e.t.a.r.ded by contrary winds. For some days no progress could be made, and it was well into May before he reached Byzantium. There he was fortunate enough to get a pa.s.sage in a Spartan despatch boat, which took him as far as the port of Corinth, thus carrying him, of course, beyond his destination, but to a point from which it was easy for him to find his way to Athens. It was about the beginning of June when he landed at the Piraeus. He did not doubt for a moment about the place where his first visit was due. The fact was that he had no near relations. The kinsman who was his legal guardian had always given up the business of looking after his ward's property to Hippocles; and now that Callias was his own master, there was little more than a friendly acquaintance between the two cousins. The alien's house was, he felt, his real home, nor had he given up the hope that in spite of Hermione's strongly expressed determination, he might some day become a member of his family.

Hippocles happened to have just returned from his business at the shipyard, when the young Athenian presented himself at the gate. Nothing could be warmer than the welcome he gave his visitor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE ACROPOLIS AT THE PRESENT DAY.]

"Now Zeus and Athene be thanked for this," he cried as he wrung the young man's hand. "That you had come back safely from the country of the Great King I heard. Your friend Xenophon told me so much in a letter that I had from him about a year ago. Then I heard from him that you were dangerously ill. After that all was a blank, and I feared the worst. But why not a word all this time?"

"Pardon me, my dear friend, I think I may say that it was not my fault.

For months I was simply too ill to write. When I came back to Trapezus, the winter had begun, and there were no more ships sailing westward. I should have written when communications were opened again, but I was always in hopes of being allowed by the physician to start, and I had a fancy for bringing my own news. And how are you?"

"I am well enough," replied Hippocles, "but we have been pa.s.sing through times bad enough to shorten any man's life. I don't speak of trade.

There have been troubles there, but when one has ventures all over the world, it does not matter very much as far as profits are concerned, if things do not go right at one place or another. It has been the state of home affairs that has been the heaviest burden to bear. I thought we had touched the bottom when the city had to surrender to Lysander. But it was not so, and I might have known better. The Spartans, of course, upset the democracy."

"Well," interrupted Callias, "I should have thought that that would not have been by any means an altogether unmixed evil."

"Yes," said Hippocles, "and there have been times when I have been ready to think the same. But wait till you see an oligarchy in power, really in power, I mean, not with a possible appeal to the people, and so a chance of having to answer for themselves before them, but with a strong foreign garrison behind them. We had that state of things in Athens for more than half a year. One might almost say that it was like a city taken by storm. No man's life was safe unless he was willing to do the bidding of the Tyrants--the "Thirty Tyrants" was the nickname of the men that were in power in those days. Who would have thought that Theramenes would ever have been regretted by honest men? Yet it was so. He thought his colleagues were going too far, and opposed them. He was carrying the Senate with him, for many besides him were beginning to feel uncomfortable; so they murdered him. The Thirty had, you must know, a sort of sham general a.s.sembly--three thousand citizens picked out of the whole number as holding strong oligarchical opinions. Amongst the laws that they had made one was that none of these Three Thousand were to be condemned without a vote of the Senate. The name of Theramenes was, of course, on the list, and, as he had a majority of the Senate with him, he seemed safe. Well what did Critias, who was the leader of the violent party, do? He filled the outer circle of the Senate house with armed men, the Senate, you must understand, sitting in the middle surrounded by them. Then he got up and said, 'A good president, when he sees the body over which he presides about to be duped, does not suffer them to follow their own counsel. Theramenes has duped you, and I and these men here will not suffer one who is the enemy of his country to do so any longer. I have therefore struck his name off the list of the Three Thousand. This leaves me and my colleagues free to deal with him without your a.s.sent.' The Senate murmured, but dared do nothing more. The officers came and dragged the man from the altar to which he was clinging. An hour afterwards he had drunk the hemlock. The G.o.ds below be propitious to him, for great as were his misdeeds he died in a good cause and as a brave man should die.[80] Things have not been so bad since the 'Thirty' were upset, but there is a sad story to tell you."

Callias paused awhile. At last he screwed up his courage to put a question which he had both longed and feared to put ever since he had set foot in the house.

"And your daughter, is she well?"

"Yes, she is well."

"And still with you?"

"Yes, she is at home," briefly answered the father.

Hermione had in fact, refused several offers which every one else had thought highly eligible. Hippocles, though by no means anxious to lose a daughter who was not only a companion but a counsellor, was growing anxious at what appeared her manifest determination to remain single. He would have dearly liked to have a son-in-law who would be able to take up in time the burden of his huge business, a burden which he began to feel already somewhat heavy for his strength. Callias would have been entirely to his heart, but he had accepted, though not without great reluctance, his daughter's views on this subject. That she should deny the young Athenian's suit, and yet for his sake dismiss all other suitors--and this he began to suspect to be the fact--seemed to his practical mind a quite unreasonable course of action. When a distant kinsman from Italy, a handsome youth of gracious manners and of unexceptionable character, with even a tincture of culture, was emphatically refused, Hippocles ventured a remonstrance. Its reception was such that he resolved never under any circ.u.mstances to repeat it.

Hermione had been always the most obedient of daughters, but this roused her to open rebellion. "Father," she said, "in this matter I am and must be a freeborn Italian. A Greek father can arrange a marriage for his daughter, but you must not think of it. I shall give myself as my mother gave herself before me--if I could find one as worthy as she did," and she caught her father's hand and kissed it, breaking at the same time into a pa.s.sion of tears. "Forgive me," she went on in a broken voice, "for setting up myself against you; but if you love me, never speak on this subject again." And her father resolved that he never would.

The young Athenian felt a glow of renewed hope pa.s.s through him at the father's reply, studiously brief and cold as it was. Anyhow Hermione was not married. What could ever occur to change her purpose he did not care to speculate. Nevertheless, as long as she did not belong to another, he need not despair.

"You will dine with me of course," said Hippocles to his visitor, "by good luck I have invited Xenophon. Doubtless that is he," he went on, as a kick was heard at the door.[81]

A few moments afterwards a slave introduced Xenophon; and before the two friends had finished their greetings it was announced that dinner had been served.

Hermione was not present at the meal, nor did her father make any excuse for her absence. The presence of any guest not belonging to the regular family circle, was sufficient to account for it; and Callias, though he hoped against hope to see her, could not but acknowledge to himself that a meeting would have been highly embarra.s.sing.

Conversation did not flag during the meal. When it was finished, the host excused himself on the score of having some business matters on hand which did not brook delay; and Xenophon and Callias were left to talk over each other's adventures.

When Callias had told the story with which my readers are already acquainted, Xenophon proceeded to give him a brief outline of his fortunes since they had parted.

"Well, my dear Callias," he said, "you did not lose much by not being with us. While we were in danger, we stuck fairly together, though there were always cowardly and selfish fellows who thought, not of the general welfare, but only of their own skins or their own pockets. But when we were safe at the coast and among friends, then there arose endless division. And, indeed, I must allow that the situation of the army was very trying. Here were thousands of men who lived by their pay, and there was no paymaster. I had a scheme of my own which would really have kept us together. If it could have been carried out, the gathering of the Ten Thousand, even though it had failed of its first object, would not have been altogether in vain. I wanted to found a new Greek colony.

We might have taken Pharis or some other city of the barbarians; and if only half of my comrades had been willing to stay, we might have made a rich and powerful place of it before long. But it was not to be. Perhaps I was not worthy of being the founder of such a colony; anyhow the scheme came to nothing. I will tell you how it was. You remember Sila.n.u.s, the soothsayer. I never trusted the man. He was quite capable of garbling signs to suit his own advantage. However I could not help going to him on this occasion, as he was the chief of his craft. So I said, 'Offer sacrifices and determine the omens concerning this scheme of a new colony.' Now Sila.n.u.s was about the only man who had any money in his pocket. Cyrus had given him three thousand darics[82] for a prophecy that had come true, and he wanted to get home with the spoil.

So he was altogether against the idea of a colony. When he had sacrificed he could not say that the omens were altogether against the scheme; for I knew nearly as much about the matter as he did. What he did say was that there were indications of a conspiracy against me. And he took good care to make them true, for he spread about reports of what I was going to do that turned the army against me. So the scheme came to nothing.

"This did one good thing, however, for it helped us on our way home.

Trapezus and the other colonies in the east of the Euxine did not relish the idea of a new Greek city which might turn out to be a formidable rival. So they offered to transport the army to the h.e.l.lespont and to furnish pay from the first new moon after the departure. This seemed a good offer, and I recommended the soldiers to close with it, and said that I gave up my scheme. 'Only,' I said, 'let us all keep together and let any one who leaves us be counted a malefactor.' For I did not choose that my friend the soothsayer should get the better of it.

"Well, we set sail; our first halt was at Sinope, which is roughly speaking, about halfway between Trapezus and Byzantium. Then the army wanted to make me commander-in-chief. Happily the omen was against it, and I was able to decline. We started again, and got to Heraclea. The people were very hospitable; but some scoundrels in the army wanted to lay a contribution upon the city. Chirisophus, the Spartan--I should have told you that on my refusal the army gave him the chief command--refused to have anything to do with such an abominable business, and I backed him up. Of course the city shut its gates against us, and we got nothing at all. After this the army broke up into three.

One of the divisions, made up of Arcadians and Achaeans, the most unscrupulous and greedy of the whole number, got into serious trouble when they were trying to plunder the country, and I had to rescue them, for two thousand men had stuck to me when the army was thus broken up.

Then the other division under Chirisophus were nearly as badly off, and I had to get them out of a sc.r.a.pe. After this they came together again, and it was made a matter of death for anyone to propose a separation.

"It was well we did, for everyone seemed bent on treating us as villanously as possible. Would you believe that the Spartan governor of Byzantium actually sold as slaves four hundred soldiers who had found their way into the city? It is true that they were stragglers and had no business there; but it was an abominable act. At last, one Seuthes, who had been chief of the Odrysians, and deposed by a usurper, offered to take the whole army into his pay, if we would help him to recover his dominions. Every man was to receive a stater[83] per month, the captains twice, and the generals four times as much. Also he offered lands, oxen to plough it with, and a city with walls. In fact the colony scheme seemed likely to be carried out after all. To me he was very munificent in his promises. I was to have one of his daughters to wife and a city of my own."